


Shrike

by Andryka



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e15 Deception, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Dyad (Star Wars), Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Multi, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, That's Not How The Force Works, maybe they should try communicating for once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24036775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andryka/pseuds/Andryka
Summary: It had been just an hour, and it was already harder to remember the sound of his voice. His laugh. His quiet snoring when he falls asleep at their table over a cup of Gatalenten tea and his latest book. It was harder to remember the red-gold glittering softness of his hair, the kind smile that crinkled his eyes, the warmth of his battle-worn hands.Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead, and Anakin Skywalker has never felt so alone.
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano/Original Female Character(s), Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 51
Kudos: 224





	1. Prelude- Ahsoka

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh let me know if this is something worth continuing, I've planned out about 12 longer chapters in addition to the Ahsoka prelude I'm posting here now, but don't know if there's much of an audience for this! Happy reading <3 For reference, The CIPC is the "Coruscant Interplanetary Broadcasting Company". I made them up, it's basically just a news and gossip station. Coruscant News Channel 749KDi is even less reputable.  
> Edit: 25 chapters oops

_“This is Coruscant News Channel 749KDi, continuing coverage for tonight’s breaking news...the Mid-Rim planet Rythodi has fallen to Separatist forces after Jedi Knight Sig-in-atehn and his clone reserves were forced to retreat off world… Senator Catha di Wattan had a frankly appalling wardrobe mishap after being caught having a most indiscreet liaison at the opera in his private box, leading some to speculate that he may be subject to a recall referendum on Cordica in the coming week...Jedi Master Ki-Adi Mundi has secured a temporary cessation of hostilities at Mygeeto with a squad of Clones from the 21st Nova Corps...Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi-"_

_"Oh, no- that’s.. No, can we get confirmation on this?"_

_"Are you sure?_ _Folks, I’m just terribly sorry to inform you that Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, General in the Grand Army of the Republic, is dead."_

_"Funeral services are set to commence at 2300 hours at the Jedi Temple-well that’s awfully quick, isn’t it? Must have been a nasty job on him- such a shame, really. The service is by invitation only. Several notables and dignitaries have confirmed their intent to attend, including Satine Kryze of Mandalore, Master Yoda, Master Plo Koon, and Senator Padmé Amidala."_

_"Kenobi is survived by his grand-padawan, Ahsoka Tano, and his former Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, the “Hero With No Fear”. Well this must have been some shock to him, anyway! But who’s to say, after last month’s Kadavo debacle? Ahem, yes- sorry, got a bit carried away."_

_"Any condolences are to be sent through-”_

“Hey, don’t you think you should turn that Holonet crap off?” Ahsoka interrupted, a worried little line forming between her eyes as she watched the slow trickle of mourners arriving at the temple from the large window in their living-quarters. “They’re all a bunch of poodoo vultures anyway Master, it’s just going to get worse. You heard what they said on the CIPBC about us a few minutes ago.”

No response. Their quarters were so silent it was like he wasn’t even there. But she knew he was still hunched over on the small sofa where she’d set him over an hour ago without even turning to look. The pain in his force-signature burned a hot white that seemed to fill the room.

She sighed, feeling the little twist of sadness she couldn’t seem to shake rise up in her chest again. “Master, please. Turn it off.” She waited for something, anything, and didn’t get anything but more silence. She screwed her eyes shut and let herself take a steadying breath, wrapping her arms around herself in a poor imitation of a hug, trying to let her grief fall away from her heart and melt into nothingness in the force like Master Kenobi taught her. 

Ahsoka turned to face her Master. He didn’t look up or move at all. 

_Force, help me._

“Hey, Master,” she said softly, sitting down next to him and reaching her hand out to touch his stiff shoulder, bracing herself for an outburst or even tears. A moment passed and she felt like she was suffocating, but he finally lifted his head from his hands and looked at her dully, through a haze of pain and...guilt? Yes, it felt like guilt, crushing and consuming and morphing into a roiling mess of fear and loneliness. It reached out across their bond like nothing ever had before, nearly sweeping her along into the horror of it all.

_Oh, Master. Force, I’m so sorry._

She swallowed hard and tried to send a wave of reassurance back across the bond, but it had little effect on him, shaken as she was. “Master, we need to get to the burial chambers. It’s- it’s time,” she finished, feeling awkwardly useless. 

Anakin looked at her for a long moment. It felt raw. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly, and stood up, her hand falling away from his shoulder as he did. He waved a hand and the two Holonet anchors froze on screen, looking as ridiculous and fake as ever. Ahsoka felt a swell of fondness at his undeniably improper use of the Force. Her master seemed to pause for a moment, squaring his shoulders, and then abruptly turned and walked with sudden purpose into Obi-Wan’s room. As she stood and put on her cloak she heard him slide a drawer open and shut, and then Anakin was back, holding something small on a cord in his hands and pulling it over his head, his mouth set in a rigid line. It looked like a tiny box, maybe resinwood, but then it slid under the cloth of his cloak and was gone from her view. He pulled up his hood, his face falling into deep shadow, and exited their quarters, brushing shoulders with her as he passed. 

Fighting back a rising sense of dread, Ahsoka pulled up her own hood and followed, her footsteps echoing in the empty Temple halls like a drumbeat warning. 

This could not end well. 


	2. Trueping's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral, the fear, the alcohol, the anger, Hardeen, hate... Anakin was suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin's POV this chapter. It's going to alternate in this story between Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Padmé POV for the first four installments, but I'll always let you know at the start of the chapter who's speaking. After the first four, it will just be Anakin's perspective.  
> Thank you all so much for a lovely response to the prelude! I hope this first chapter holds up to your expectations. Happy reading!  
> By the way, I can be found at withasuitcasefullofsummertime on Tumblr.

_There is no death, there is the Force. There is no death, there is the Force. There is no death, there is only the Force._ Obi-Wan used to tell him that in soft whispers, when Anakin would run into his room when he was still small, trembling in fear after a nightmare of some kind or another- a mantra of serenity as he quieted Anakin’s roiling emotions. 

_There is no death, there is only the Force._

Yeah, and Anakin was a gullipud.

It had been just an hour, and it was already harder to remember the sound of his voice. His laugh. His quiet snoring when he falls asleep at their table over a cup of Gatalenten tea and his latest book. It was harder to remember the red-gold glittering softness of his hair, the kind smile that crinkled his eyes, the warmth of his battle-worn hands.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead, and Anakin Skywalker has never felt so alone.

The Force felt wrong, clouded and still. Worst of all, there was no wound where he used to feel his bond with Obi-Wan. At least that would have been _real._ No, there was nothing there at all. Just a blank wherever Anakin searched. It was a kriffing mockery of everything: the sound when Obi-Wan hit the ground, his cooling face as Anakin cried out for him, his weight in his arms as he had carried Obi-Wan back to the Temple. Obi-Wan’s very _dead_ body.

 _Just like your mother,_ a cruel little voice whispered in Anakin’s head. _You’re useless, weak, and now you’ve lost them both._ He felt like he might be sick. Ahsoka brushed up against his shields with no small amount of concern and he pulled them closer, building them up and shutting her out. She didn’t deserve to feel as awful as he did. He could protect his Padawan, at least...couldn’t he?

This was Obi-Wan. Surely he should be able to feel him in the Force? A Jedi like that, a man like that, couldn’t just leave behind nothing. Anakin needed something, _anything_.

But as they entered the lift down to the burial chambers, Anakin felt nothing except the same blank rage that he tried to suffocate down into the depths of his heart. 

“- and I'll do it, so you don’t have to say anything, ok, Master?”

Right. A eulogy. Ahsoka could handle that. She was brilliant like that.

He nodded, fixing his eyes on the lit-up numbers above the door. 

“Master…” Ahsoka started, then changed course. “If you need anything, you know you can ask me, right? Anything,” she said, a little fiercely.

Anakin was touched. He nodded again but found he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He didn’t trust himself not to fall apart if he did. _Thank the Force I still have you, Snips,_ he sent across their bond instead, trying to shield most of his pain and rage from her even as he tried to show her warmth.

He could feel her smile in the bond and she took his hand in her small one for a second, squeezing it. 

“You’ll always have me, Master.” She dropped his hand as the doors opened. “I promise.”

She swept out ahead of him, moving with a surety and grace he definitely hadn’t possessed when he was her age. 

Was he really so old, at twenty two? He felt ancient. Fifteen felt like a hundred lifetimes ago. 

There was an oppressive feeling of mourning permeating the room when he entered, keeping to the perimeter. He could hear a woman sobbing, trying desperately to keep her pained gasps inside and still failing. The Duchess, then. 

Anakin realized, looking over the huddled mourners, that despite being with Obi-Wan nearly his entire life, there were so many people in his master’s life he’d never known, and never would, because, well- because it was over. Because Obi-wan was dead, and Anakin hadn’t been quick enough, and he couldn’t save him, and he couldn’t even avenge his death and Obi-Wan’s killer was still free.

Anakin realized his hand was on his lightsaber just as he was about to pull it from his side and flinched away like he’d been singed by its hilt, forcing it to relax again. 

_Sithspit. Calm down. Calm down. Did your Master teach you nothing?_

He forced a breath in, out, in, and out, and made his way over to the small crowd. They seemed to move aside as if compelled to let him through, looking at him with such pity in their eyes it made him want to shake a fist and yell. He didn't want their pity. None of them could understand the feeling of loss he felt. It wasn't fair.

And through the hazy smoke of incense he saw him, it, Obi-Wan's body, under a linen sheet on a platform in the center of the room. 

Anakin wanted to wake up. 

_Now, please, let me wake up_.

He choked on what little air remained in his lungs. He couldn't see, dizzy and sick and terrified. _This must be a dream._ _It has to be. Please. Oh, Force, please..._

"Anakin- General Skywalker." A soft hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" 

Anakin struggled to bring himself back. He couldn't do this now. He couldn't let the Council see how incredibly weak he really was.

A face came into focus in front of him, beautiful and kind, with dark eyes and a small mouth, lined in sadness. 

"Padmé," he forced out, almost silently, his hands coming up to hold hers to his shoulder, a lifeline. "I- I-" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Come to visit me tonight," she said. "Please, General. I think you could use.. a friend."

His wife. Oh, how he loved her. 

But he couldn't. No, he needed to be alone tonight. He hoped she would understand. 

He shook his head, small.

"I love you," she whispered, recklessly. He squeezed her hand, held it up to his mouth and kissed it tenderly under the guise of polite respect, an honorific gesture when what he truly longed to do was sweep her into his arms and press her into his heart, never to let go. He gave a small bow and walked away.

Appearances, always appearances.

He didn't pay much attention to the ceremony. At least it was quick. It didn't really matter. He didn't think he could take much more of the Duchess's tears, or the other politicians' polite mourning.

Snips did a great job, of course. She cried a bit but seemed ok, mostly, over by Master Plo Koon. 

When they lit the cremation beam, though, something snapped inside Anakin. No longer simply angry and grieving, he felt utterly monstrous, if only for a second, his face twisting into a cruel mask under his hood. Whoever did this had to pay. Someone had to. 

He shut his eyes. He was going to _make_ them pay.

* * *

Their quarters were silent except for the occasional clink of glass on glass and the sound of liquid being poured.

Ahsoka had gone to her room immediately after the funeral, and Anakin wasted no time in starting to drink. 

He just wanted the fuzzy numbness that followed the spicy taste of the knock-off Ergesh rum he usually kept hidden away, reserved only for recovering from particularly bad missions, or when he had an especially nerve-wracking appointment with the Council and needed a little liquid courage. Those summons were usually disciplinary, after all, and that never really lost its sense of peril. It was a little shocking they'd never caught on, actually, considering the frequency with which he tended to royally muck things up. Then again, he was pretty sure he'd been clocked by Stass Allie once, but she'd never said anything about it so it didn't really matter. 

Three shots in and he felt a slight tingling in his fingers and an artificial warmth blossoming in his chest and cheeks. 

Three more and maybe then he'd sleep through the night without having to see Obi-Wan's dead, noble face in his nightmares. 

Maybe four more, to be sure. He could always buy another bottle, and this one wasn't even half gone. 

As he started to pour his fourth shot, his comlink started chirping. He silenced the summons. It chirped again and he silenced it again, not even checking to see who it was. They could wait until morning. 

Ahsoka's door slid open and she came out into the common area, looking rumpled and bleary with sleep. Anakin considered putting away the bottle but she'd already seen it, and anyway, he knew what mischief padawans her age sometimes got up to. He'd been her age once, after all.

"What, Snips?" he asked. He just wanted to take the shot waiting in front of him. 

She gave a little huff. "You should answer your comlink, Skyguy. Even you know better than to ignore Master Yoda," she snarked, collapsing on their sofa and grabbing a pillow to her chest. "He's got something to tell you, I guess."

"Kriffing hell," Anakin swore, shoving his chair back, stuffing away the alcohol as fast as he could and throwing back the shot he'd just poured. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Can't they leave me alone for one karking second?" 

"Language, Master," she said lazily, kicking up her feet.

"Oh, you can stuff it," he grumbled. "I'm comming him back."

The old Master answered immediately. "Interrupting anything, I am not, Skywalker?" he asked.

"No, no, Master, I was... in the 'fresher. My apologies." _Force, get this over with, you miserable old wizard._

"Information for you, I have. Found Master Kenobi's assassin, we have, in the G-17 slums. Rako Hardeen, a bounty hunter he is." Anakin felt the small warmth in his chest ignite into a blazing fire. _How could Yoda sound so clinical?_

"Asking you and your padawan to retrieve him and deliver him to the penitentiary, I am." 

"Are you sure I'm the best choice for that, Master?" Anakin asked, seething.

Yoda continued as if Anakin hadn't spoken at all. "Find him at Trueping's, you will. May the Force be with you, Skywalker." 

"May the Force-" Anakin stared at his comlink in disbelief. Yoda had already disconnected. "What the hell?" He put his comlink on the table and pushed it away in disgust before jumping up as an electric rage slammed into him as the implications of his assignment caught up with him. 

"Master?" Ahsoka asked, putting the pillow aside.

Anakin took a long look at the closed door leading to Obi-Wan's room, his hand coming up to touch the little box still hidden under his tunic and tabards. 

"Get dressed and get your sabers, Snips. We gotta go." 

* * *

Anakin and Ahsoka took separate speeders to the dive cantina, partially because Anakin had been drinking and wasn't feeling too keen to metabolize its effects away in the Force just yet and didn’t feel comfortable flying with her as a passenger, and partially because she said it would be smart to have both to transport Hardeen back- one to carry the prisoner in and one to follow the other, just in case.

Of course, Snips had no idea Anakin wasn't planning on taking in a prisoner at all. He was fairly certain you needed a live prisoner for that. Hardeen was already a dead man in Anakin's mind; the assassin just didn't know it yet.

They tucked their speeders hastily into a tiny, damp alleyway and rearranged a couple old storage containers apparently discarded from the nearby massage parlor and the cantina to partially shield them from the street. The last thing they needed was someone noticing the shiny, standard issue speeder and stealing them. While Ahsoka stood guard at the head of the alley, Anakin locked up and checked his lightsaber- _still there, thank the Force for that-_ and pushed past her a little stiffly onto the main street.

"It's the last on the left, Ahsoka. Stay close."

Anakin hated district G-17. There was something filthy about it that seemed to cling onto his skin and infiltrate the senses with a sticky darkness. Maybe it was the constant sorrowful ache in the Force emanating from the pleasure houses- slaves, addicts, and sadists were everywhere, even on Coruscant. He couldn't believe he used to be naive enough to think that slavery had been eradicated anywhere. It took an infinite variety of shapes and forms, but slavers were in one of the oldest industries around and never failed to adapt their slick, cold business. It was repulsive.

In and out, and then he could go home to the Temple and his rum and play memory after memory in his head until he fell asleep or made himself sick.

The blue glow of his lightsaber sliced through the dark fog in the cantina, betraying his intentions and startling the customers.

"Where is Rako Hardeen?" Anakin ground out, sensing Snips making her 'intimidating' face behind him. It was almost cute, but despite the glow of his saber, all Anakin seemed to be able to see was _red_. 

_I'll kill them all._

But he didn't have to. The bartender just sighed and said, "Back room," and carried on polishing a glass. 

Anakin paused in the back hall, just before the door, his back to Ahsoka and blending almost entirely into the dark around them.

"Whatever happens, Ahsoka, just know he deserves it. For Obi-Wan." The greedy tendrils of the Dark side he had felt around him since _it_ had happened seized onto his mind, latching onto the intent and hatred there and insinuating itself into the corners of his very soul. His eyes burned with it.

"Master, what-"

She was interrupted by the door sliding open and Anakin couldn't seem to care. He had a drunken _thief_ to destroy and nothing else mattered except crushing the pathetic life-form's throat in and running him through with a lightsaber until the pain could finally stop. 

But when Anakin threw him back and Hardeen hit the wall, one of the sniper's bracers, tight on his right forearm, crushed something underneath it. There was the briefest moment in which Anakin swore he recognized those eyes and the way the man held his chin just so, but that was all forgotten when suddenly where Anakin had felt nothing despite his desperate searching, the bond burst back into being with a familiar light that was _everything_. It shook his very core, forcing him to drop the bounty hunter, and knocked him to his knees, to his side, until he lay on the floor as it filled him with an all-encompassing feeling of _tendernessguilthomesafegratefulpureminesosorrylovesafe **guilt** loveshameloveoh **ANAKIN**_ that threatened to swallow him whole. Anakin wavered on the edge of consciousness, the connection slamming into his skull like the blunt end of a blaster. 

As he sank into gratefully into cool oblivion, overwhelmed, Ahsoka's shocked voice reverberated in his head:

"Obi-Wan?" 


	3. Obi-Wan Kenobi Has Some Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there's any such thing as a perfect Jedi, it sure as hell isn't Obi-Wan. He has known this intimately since he first saw Anakin laugh with reckless abandon at the height of battle, looking for all the worlds to be made of living gold and crowned by the rare sunset of Dandoran five years ago and found that deep in the pit of his chest he _ached _.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter seriously ran away from me, so I'm posting it early. FYI: I've shortened the age gap between Anakin and Obi-Wan to 10 years, just to clean up the timeline a bit. Happy reading!

There are some things no one knows about Obi-Wan Kenobi. No one _really_ knows his regrets, or the secrets he might not want anyone to see. 

No one knows he's the one who left that silly, crude little carving on the plaque of his grandmaster, Dooku, after he'd had the most dreadful fight with Qui-Gon. He'd taken refuge in the library and tried to meditate it out, and before he'd known it, he'd drawn a rough caricature of his master falling into a gundark pit, naked. It was still there. He'd checked not a year ago. Mace Windu had paused for just a moment at Obi-Wan's side and leaned in to look too. He'd let out what could only be described as a chuckle and said, "That was one crazy son of a bitch."

Obi-Wan had tried to keep his face as impassive as possible- _he was a Council member now, damn it all-_ and had asked lightly: "The...artist?"

Mace shook his head and smiled. It was terrifying. "Qui-Gon Jinn. You have no idea how lucky you were to have him, Kenobi," he said honestly, and swept away in a whirl of dark robes.

Obi-Wan had been rattled for days afterwards. That night when Anakin came bounding into his kitchen he'd nearly dropped his favorite mug. He didn't drop it, but when Anakin proceeded to pester him for hours into the night he briefly considered sending it flying at his former Padawan's head to chase him out, if only so he could finally go to sleep. In the end, Anakin fell asleep on a pile of droid pieces he was 'improving' on the living room floor, and Obi-Wan slept on the couch. They'd shipped out for Mortis the next week with Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan tried to look Mace in the eye more often now. Tried. He regretted not telling Anakin about it. He definitely would have found it hilarious, but Obi-Wan never found the right time for something so trivial. There was a war on, after all. 

When he was nineteen, just before he met Anakin and Padmé and his whole life turned upside down, he nearly left the Order. A few people knew about that- Yoda and Qui-Gon. It's hard to keep secrets from your master, and he was so in love with Satine that whole year he didn't care who knew. He would have shouted it on the Galactic Senate floor if it would have made her happy. If she'd just asked, he would have been hers. But she was too good. She refused to put him in that position, and he stayed with the Jedi. The secret was this: he never regretted his choice, but he still wondered sometimes what could have been if he'd said "I'm staying." It was all empty curiosity by now- she was back in his life, but as a friend, a dear friend, and the passionate love he felt for her had so faded with time as to leave only the faintest shadow of wistfulness in its place. 

No one knows that sometimes, when Anakin was still small, Obi-Wan would lock himself in the 'fresher at night when things got bad and cry in their shower, raging at the galaxy, at the council, at the Force, at himself for failing Qui-Gon, and for feeling like he was failing Anakin too.

No one knows Obi-Wan Kenobi has touched the Dark side and _loved_ it. It made him violently sick after he killed Maul in a haze of vicious, righteous rage, and still he desperately wanted the promise of power the darkness offered to him. He regrets not using it sooner, if it could have saved his master. He tries to ignore the voice that sometimes calls to him when Anakin is in danger, the voice that says _Use me, and you will never know defeat. You will never again know loss._ And so he keeps on his mask of serenity, and no one is the wiser. 

If there's any such thing as a perfect Jedi, it sure as hell isn't Obi-Wan. He has known this intimately since he first saw Anakin laugh with reckless abandon at the height of battle, looking for all the worlds to be made of living gold, crowned by the spectacular sunset of Dandoran five years ago and found that deep in the pit of his chest he _ached._ Anakin looked at him, his eyes glittering, and smiled, then sprang back into action with a flourish of his saber. Obi-Wan's heart nearly stopped. 

It felt like dying. They won, that day, and no matter how he tried to push that glowing, heavy feeling into the Force, to let it go and be _better_ , that never-ending moment lives eternally in his mind, haunting him with its beauty. 

He knows that Anakin must never know. If he knew, he'd never look at Obi-Wan like that again. He'd see Obi-Wan as he really is, and he would lose Anakin forever.

Of all things, Obi-Wan Kenobi truly fears just one: being completely, and utterly, alone.

* * *

He sensed Anakin and Ahsoka coming miles away. It gave him plenty of time to set the scene of his 'capture' as he and the council planned, but not so much time as to make him grow too restless.

He checked the Force-signature blocking cuff one last time and secured it under his bracer, grateful that it hid him from his bond with Anakin and from other Force-sensitives without actually cutting him off from the Force like a real suppressant might. He tested the vocal emulator again, perfecting a drunken drawl and practicing Hardeen's posture and movements in the tiny scuffed up mirror. It was incredibly disconcerting to look at himself and see the face of someone he didn't know, a criminal. It felt like an invasion on both his privacy and the bounty hunter's, but it was what he had to work with, and those feelings weren't productive. He released them into the Force, sitting on the edge of the worn mattress. 

When he felt them enter the cantina, he laid down as naturally as he could and waited. 

For a moment, he thought Anakin might actually kill him, as he gripped Obi-Wan's throat and slammed him into the wall with a rage in his bright eyes that felt too familiar. But then his cuff shorted, and Anakin collapsed from the sudden flood in the bond he obviously wasn't shielding. Ahsoka took a step deeper into the room, sensing him in the Force and quickly closing the door behind her with a light wave of her hand, the other touching one of the lightsabers on her belt but not removing it.

"Obi-Wan?" she asked hesitantly, disbelieving but _hoping_. 

Obi-Wan coughed, tried to speak, and coughed again. Anakin's durasteel hand had bruised him, badly, leaving a hand-shaped ring around the exact position of the emulator that made it hurt to breathe too deeply. 

He extended his Force signature over to hers and brushed up against it deliberately, a confirmation. She lit up in the Force with unreserved glee, laughed and then covered her mouth at the too-loud sound. "Oh, Master, thank the Force," she said wonderingly. Then her face changed so rapidly it was like getting whiplash, morphing into a hard, suspicious expression. "Why in all Sith's hells do you look like that? What is this?" She took another step toward him, glancing in sudden fear at where Anakin lay at Obi-Wan's feet.

He found he could speak again, clearing his throat frequently, and explained the plan and everything that was at stake while she knelt next to Anakin and checked his pulse, his Force signature, and erected some makeshift shields around his bond with Obi-Wan. He finished, and she looked up at him. 

"He's going to be ok," she said wearily. "He was just shocked, really, like a really big electrostaff to the face. He's gonna be dealing with a major headache when he wakes up. At least you can help him with that. You don't know how happy he's going to be when he realizes it really is you, Master." 

"I'm going to have to make him forget, Ahsoka. Anakin can't know I'm alive," he said as evenly as he could through the vocal emulator. He pulled his spare force-blocker, an earring, out of his vest pocket and put it on. She looked up in alarm at his words and realized she couldn't feel him anymore. He felt entirely null. 

"And who's grand idea was that?" she snarled. "The council? It's _cruel-_ "

"It was mine, Ahsoka," he admitted, feeling very tired. He moved away from the wall slowly, wincing when it made his head pulse where Anakin had smashed it into the wall. 

"Wait, what?" she sounded small. "Master, you can't do this!"

"Sometimes, the greater good demands that sacrifices be made. We all agreed this was the best we could do, given the circumstances." It sounded like a weak and patronizing excuse even to him. "I am sorry," he admitted.

"That doesn't make this any better. There has to be another way," she said pleadingly as she tried to make Obi-wan _see_. "We can come up with something else, this is wrong!"

"Ahsoka, you must promise me you will never tell Anakin what happened tonight. So many will be in danger if you do. Could you live with that selfishness?" His voice left no room for bargaining. He was as cold as stone but inside, buried beneath his shields, his heart trembled and clenched in guilt.

"Are you really going to make him forget? You don't know what it's been like. What he's been like," she whispered. 

"I must."

"I'll never forgive you," she said, her voice shaking with unshed tears. "He'll never forgive you if he remembers. It will kill him." He saw the first tear fall on Anakin's wild bronzed curls and retreated deeper into himself.

"I am sorry, Ahsoka. More that you can imagine. He will never know, and then I'll be back when this is all over. You'll see." He wanted to cry too. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ He was numb.

Obi-Wan knelt on the other side of Anakin's prone body, reaching out one hand to take the one Ahsoka had laid protectively on her Master's chest. "You are so brave, Padawan. I know I can trust you to...protect him from himself." She sniffed and closed her eyes, turning her head away as another tear ran down her face at his words. "When this is done, cuff me and knock me out. Wake Anakin up. Take me in."

"I will. You don't know how much I'd pay to hit you right now."

"I'm sorry."

"I know, Master. So am I."

He put his hands on either side of Anakin’s still, peaceful face and took a deep breath. He looked, really looked, at the thick dark lashes, casting long shadows over sharp cheekbones, his stubborn chin and full lips. He knew Anakin's face better than any, even his own, and still he never grew tired of seeing him. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, adjusted his grip on Anakin's skull, _pushed_ with the Force and said “Forget.”

And so Obi-Wan did the hardest thing he’d ever done, and he hated himself even more for it, and pushed himself back onto his heels and waited to be hit on the head. Again.

Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi has some regrets.


	4. Learning How to Let Go, OR; Padmé, Before Shit Gets Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé knew Anakin missed his lesson on learning how to let go somewhere, but perhaps this was an opportunity for growth.  
> Who was she kidding? Anakin will never rest until Rako Hardeen is dead, or he will die in his quest for revenge.  
> She loves him, but he is a hurricane at best, an inferno gone supernova at worst. Nothing will be able to stand in Anakin's path. Not even her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is a brief insight into Padmé's mind, her life, and her relationships. A reminder: after this, all chapters will be from Anakin's point of view. (Unless otherwise noted). This story has grown into a beast- well beyond the 12 chapters I initially estimated. Plan for at least 25. We have a lot of ground to cover, so happy reading!

"My lady," Dormé greeted the Senator, her hands full of data-pads, "Senators Bir-hasiin and Delfon Maxentius sent over the bill re-writes on funding for the stimulus package for Corellia, and Venn Cendor sent out the invitations for the charity ball this weekend on Arcadia. Oh, and Chancellor Palpatine left you a holo-message while you were at the Temple. Would you like to see them now, or left in your suite?" 

"My suite, please, Dormé," Padmé sighed, shrugging her thick fur wrap off and handing it to Sabé. 

"Very good, my lady," she replied, gliding off down the hallway. Padmé walked over to the open balcony, leaning on the doorframe to look out over the city and to try to parse the turmoil she felt in her heart. The city lights blazed on with a glittering indifference, the Coruscanti traffic looking just as dreadful as always. 

"Tea, my lady? Or anything else?" Sabé asked as she hung the coat in the closet by the door, sounding concerned.

"Perhaps- perhaps something a little stronger than tea, Sabé."

The words caught slightly in her throat, tight as it was. Oh, Force, grief seemed to follow her everywhere. _Will it always hurt like this_ , she wondered, _losing a friend?_

For a moment, she wished she could feel the Force like Ani could. She wished with her whole being for answers, clarity, that she knew she'd never get. She heard Sabé walk away, into the kitchen, and then, for a moment, at least, she was alone with her thoughts.

Padmé knew with certainty that the Force was real. She'd seen too much for it to be anything but real. What she hated was how cold it felt, the knowing and _not_ knowing. She'd heard Obi-Wan say, once, that we should rejoice for those who rejoin the Force, but Padmé couldn't seem to see any cause for celebration when the loss was this dreadfully unfair. So she would take her time, tonight. She would cry. Maybe laugh a little, with Sabé and Dormé. She would let herself remember the brilliantly luminous man that Obi-Wan was, and just grieve.

She shifted in the cool breeze, looking to the Jedi Temple in the west. It was lit up blue, for him.

The Jedi grieved, too, even if they didn't want to admit it. If only Anakin could see...

Padmé knew Anakin missed his lesson on learning how to let go somewhere, but perhaps this was an opportunity for growth. Perhaps this would help him learn the balance he's never truly had, always oscillating between emotional extremes. He always felt everything so keenly, razor-sharp and with the strength of a million star-destroyers. After his mother, he almost completely fell apart. Maybe now that he had her, and Ahsoka, and a real cause invested in this war, Anakin would finally be able to learn how to grieve properly.

That would be too easy though, wouldn't it. Who was she kidding? Anakin would never rest until Rako Hardeen is dead, or he would die in his quest for revenge. 

She saw how he looked tonight at the funeral. Like he could see something, feel something no one else could, just beyond the edges of reality, as if in some close by other world that held his attention in simultaneous torture and rapture. She saw the desperate _need_ in his eyes when he looked into her, begging for her very heart and soul and still more. She would give him all of herself. He already had her.

Sometimes, when their duties demanded, Padmé and Anakin would work together, very rarely alone- sometimes with Ahsoka, almost always with Obi-Wan. It always felt like a bigger risk, being in danger with the people she loved most, rather than when she worked alone, even if she was technically safer with the Jedi around. She learned a lot from those interactions, even if the others didn't realize it. Padmé learned that the Code isn't absolute- and the rare alternative version makes far more sense to her, in any case. Anakin wouldn't hear of it, of course, because it wasn't what Obi-Wan had taught him. 

Her husband's loyalty to his Master wasn't simple by any means. She would watch, sometimes, when Anakin would get carried away on some righteous tirade and Obi-Wan would quiet him, effortlessly, with a single soft touch to the shoulder without even looking up from his data-pad. She had seen their silent conversations, in front of diplomats and enemy fighters alike, with scarcely a twitch of an eyebrow to betray them, and wondered with something akin to jealousy what it was like to live with someone else in your head. Anakin had come to her, in these past years, and still Obi-Wan was omnipresent in their lives, their conversations. The Master _had_ to know, or at least suspect their involvement went beyond the physical, but he'd never asked, or even implied. She had seen the way he looked at her and Anakin as they embraced, once, after a particularly nasty firefight, but when they locked eyes over Anakin's shoulder he'd merely given her a tired, wistful half-smile and turned away. It had puzzled her at the time, but about four months later she figured it out.

Anakin had been shot in the shoulder. At the time, she was cornered on the other side of the vast bridge the firefight had begun on, but she knew something was wrong before she and the clone detachment that had been fighting alongside herself and Captain Tanaka even got within shouting distance of where Anakin and Obi-Wan had fought in the worst of it as the fighting came to an end. Call it...intuition.

She heard the muffled, crackling transmission through Commander Cody's helmet as they walked and thought her heart stopped before she even fully comprehended the message.

"General Skywalker is down, I repeat, Skywalker is down, we need flight med-evac for slug damage at coordinates-"

She broke into a run without a thought, sprinting through the ash and debris that covered the bridge, the clones shouting and running after her, albeit slowed ever so slightly by their heavy armor.

Padmé rarely felt fear. It was a luxury for normal people, something she had done her best to eradicate since she joined the Apprentice Legislature just after her eighth birthday.

She felt the worst terror in her heart that day- the blockade, the assassination attempt, Geonosis were all nothing compared to that all-consuming fear.

“-Anakin, you must try to hold still, you're losing too much blood,” Obi-Wan was saying, a note of panic in his voice as he tried to prop his former padawan up. “I need to pull out the slugs. It's going to hurt. Focus on me.”

"Already...h-hurts” Anakin said, sounding faint and shaky. 

_Mother Goddess, he looks like a corpse._ He was drenched in blood, shiny and sticky on his synth-leather tabards, soaking into his hair and smeared violently up the side of his face, his golden skin pallid and stark-looking by contrast. His eyes were terribly blue.

"I know, dear one," Obi-Wan said, "I know. This will help. I promise." He seemed close to tears.

She reached them and helped steady Anakin, who was slumping a little to the right as Obi-Wan tried to maneuver him into a position in which he could actually pull the slugs out. 

"Tell me what to do," she said, her voice strong and clear in spite of it all.

“I need- I need you to support him. He needs to be upright for me to do this.”

"Ok," she said simply, "Like this?" She positioned herself behind Anakin, carefully trying to wedge herself into a pose in which she could hold him up and restrain him too, if it came down to it. Obi-Wan made quick work of Anakin's tabards and tunics, casting the bloodied garments aside.

 _Were those little wounds really the source of all that blood?_ It seemed impossible.

"Let me help, Senator," the blond clone- Rex- offered. She nodded. Cody was opening up a medkit, pulling out bacta patches and thick rolls of gauze. She braced herself.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, centering himself or reaching out into the Force, she couldn't tell- and started, his hand hovering carefully over the first of his wounds, his forehead creased in concentration, holding Anakin's flesh hand in his slightly larger one. It seemed like nothing was happening for a brief moment and she thought it might all be okay, but suddenly Anakin _screamed_ and convulsed in her grip, trying desperately to get away from the pain as she and Rex held him immobile. She'd never heard anything so awful. It went on for what felt like forever when as quickly as it had started, it ended, and he fell silent and limp in her arms, and all she could hear was his ragged breathing, synced up with Obi-Wan's as Commander Cody applied the last temporary bacta patch to Anakin's wounds, and 

"Where is that fucking med evac ship?" another clone was shouted into his comm, breaking the stillness.

Obi-Wan flinched and opened his eyes, checked his handiwork, and extracted his hand from Anakin’s death-grip, then buried both his hands in his curly hair and brought their foreheads together with a tenderness that seemed impossible, shutting his eyes again as if he couldn't bear to see.

"Never, ever do that to me again," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear. "I can't lose you."

Anakin chucked weakly and winced at the sting it obviously caused, lifting his hand to hold his old Master's cheek with the same gentle touch Obi-Wan cradled his skull in. 

"Only if you'll stop getting shot at, old man," he quipped with a tiny, tremulous smile, still trembling violently. He closed his eyes too. "I'm sorry, Master."

Padmé turned away and hid her face in Rex's chest plate, feeling as though she was intruding on something incredibly private and sacred. This, too, was terrifying, in its own completely different way.

"He'll be alright, Senator Amidala," Rex said quietly over her head. "It's barbaric but the General has survived worse."

Then the med-evac ship arrived- "Finally!" Cody shouted, barking orders, and the clones whisked Obi-Wan and Anakin away, and she was left behind, covered in blood and clinging on to Rex like her life depended on it, and she cried. Just for a moment, not even a minute, but she cried because now she _knew._

She knew that Anakin's loyalty was more than returned. She didn't need the Force to see it. It was obvious, now, that love-no, devotion, permeated their lives so fully as to have bound the two together irrevocably in a way that she could never rival or even begin to comprehend. Yet she never resented Obi-Wan for what he was to Anakin, no, she loved him, too, in spite of their cross-purposes, until now that he'd died and left Anakin behind and she saw how it had destroyed him.

 _A dyad,_ she realized as she looked out beyond herself, still fixated on the Temple. _The two that are one. That was the joke, wasn't it? The Team, two men who fought like one unbeatable warrior._ Her thoughts stopped their twisting, one question stark at the front of her mind. _How has no one else noticed what they were?_ Anakin could never move on from this, that much was clear now- half of his soul had died and all he had left was her and Ahsoka, tied to him not by fate itself but by simple _choice._ How could they ever hope to be enough?

She felt like a fool, an empty fool, for a moment, hugging herself, _alone_ in the wind in the biggest city in the galaxy, until she realized that dyad or not, Anakin still chose to marry her, and that alone was worth the universe. 

Sabé's voice broke through her thoughts and she turned away from the city skyline.

"My lady, shall I put this in your suite or would you like some company?" Sabé asked, holding a tray containing a few delicate crystalline glasses, a small china dish of Alderaanian cherries, and a carafe of strikingly purple Nabooian moonflower liquor. 

"Pour me a glass out here, please," she replied, "and one for you, and Dormé too. I think we all could use a break, tonight." And Padmé remembered, now, too, that of course she was not alone. She never would be. She had never been alone like Anakin was now.

Sabé smiled gently, "Of course, my lady."

"We've been worried about you," Dormé said, coming back into the room. "Will General Skywalker be joining us tonight, my lady?"

Padmé pushed away the pang in her heart and focused on her gratitude for her retinue's genuine care.

"No, he's to remain at the Temple tonight. I'll join you both out here again after I look over my work. It won't be long, there isn't much."

"Yes, my lady. I'll close up here and comm Captain Tanaka to set the guard for the night. Let us know if you need anything," Dormé said, moving to the wall com system and sealing off the balcony.

Padmé took the little glass of liquor from Sabé, garnished with ice studded with tiny pale pink berries and went into her suite's private office. She set it down on the desk, close at hand, and set to work, hoping it would help calm her still-wild emotions. 

She RSVP'd quickly enough to the charity ball and set a reminder for the day of, Noting to herself that she’d wear the new blue dress, not that strapless little mauve thing, that was for the gala at the university next month- then moved on to the bill, savoring small sips of the plum-colored liquor, her favorite. The adjustments the other Senators had made were small, but there was still some language that needed tinkering with. She highlighted the more egregious errors and loopholes, marking too the things that needed to stay in the bill, non-negotiable.

Padmé had never doubted her abilities. She knew who she was, where she was from, what she valued, when this all started, and why she continued to fight. She knew how much the galaxy had to lose if there was no one to defend it. This was a multi-sided war, myriad in its motivations and clouded in its machinations, but she knew where she stood. Even now, at what felt like the beginning of the end of all things, she was certain.

She turned on the holo-projector and started removing the pins in her hair. It was done in a simple style, and fell down around her shoulders easily.

"Senator Amidala," the holo-video of Chancellor Palpatine began, "I hope that the proceedings surrounding Obi-Wan Kenobi's sudden demise haven't affected you and young Anakin too badly, and that the two of you are safe-" - _presumptuous of him, to assume Anakin was with her-_ "-as I know how difficult it can be, for Anakin, at the Temple. The Council has never fully appreciated or understood him, and I fear that this situation will only make it harder for him. He declined my offer of counsel earlier, though I hope he has found solace in you."

Something flashed in his eyes at those words that seemed off. Like sour jealousy, hidden deep beneath his benevolent tone and visage. It disappeared immediately though, and Padmé wasn't sure if she'd even seen it at all. She finished her glass of moonflower liquor and narrowed her eyes at the hologram as he continued on.

"Please remember the briefing tomorrow at 1300, not mandatory, of course, but I'd appreciate having a voice of reason there. I'd also like to extend an invitation to you and Anakin to dine with me after the Christophis report in three days, at my reserved table at Boujöns in the theater district." She paused the recording and scrubbed back a few frames. There was that look, again, like jealousy, yes, but also something smug and superior looking that was entirely distasteful. She'd never seen her one-time mentor look anything but kind, once upon a time, but lately he'd become more and more paternalistic and patronizing. It was strange. 

She let the holo-video play out, lost in thought, and absently swirled the ice around her glass.

She realized in the instant his image flickered out that she didn't trust the Chancellor anymore. She hadn't been sure for a while, now that he looked at her like she was nothing but a foolish little girl half the time, but tonight- tonight was confirmation that something had gone wrong.

Padmé recalled that once, long ago, after the blockade was lifted on Naboo, Chancellor Palpatine- then Senator, of course- looked at Obi-Wan like he was a particularly nasty bug. He still looks at Anakin like he wants to eat him alive, when he thinks no one else is looking. But she's seen it. It disturbed her deeply at the time. It still did.

At least she knows, even if Anakin didn't, _couldn't_ come to her tonight, he didn't go to the Chancellor, either. 

It feels like a victory, of sorts, even if it might not last. Padmé steeled herself as she got up to rejoin Sabé and Dormé and reminded herself that she was not afraid. 

Of course, in the back of her head, a cruel whispering voice replied that she knows even a façade of peace never lasts with Anakin.

What it looks like is this:

Anakin loves Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan loved Anakin.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead.

This is unacceptable, and Anakin _will_ make the man responsible suffer.

She loves him, but Anakin is a hurricane at best, an inferno gone supernova at worst. When he decides it's time for revenge, nothing will be able to stand in Anakin's path- not the Order, not Ahsoka, or Yoda himself. Not even her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super hard to write, but I hope it was worth the wait! Thanks for reading <3


	5. Is That All?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you threatening me, Master Yoda?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a lot later than I intended, guys. First I had some health issues, and then my long-term partner and I separated, which has been really hard on me, and I was overwhelmed with summer classes the whole time. It's been a long process but I've found some real solace in writing this latest installment. This bit is a little short but it's so important for the story, because it really starts moving now due to this chapter's events. Thank you for your patience, and happy reading!

He was neglecting Ahsoka. Anakin knew that, he saw the disappointment in her face every morning when, consumed by grief, he told her "Not yet." and “Maybe tomorrow.” She probably thought she was doing a good job of hiding it, but he knew her. She didn’t even ask today, just made herself a mug of caf and left around 0630. Still, surely she could try to understand why he couldn't move on just yet, couldn't get up without a gundark of a hangover and drink shitty caf and make nice with the other Knights in the Temple and get on with being a proper Master for her by acting like nothing had changed, because everything had. Where could he even go from here? This was nothing like his mother’s death- he had no mission, no wartime distraction, he couldn’t even talk to Padmé over the comm without tears or without shouting, like he did last night.

She really didn’t appreciate the shouting. Anakin winced from the memory. He should probably apologize to his angel again in a few hours, once his head stopped pounding so viciously. 0700 was an unholy hour. Shouldn’t exist. When Anakin ruled the galaxy he’d get rid of it.

Water. That might help. A lot of water and then more sleep.

Anakin rolled out of bed and practically fell into the fresher, uncoordinated and clumsy with the lingering haze of a restless night. Looking into the mirror, Anakin nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of his face; his once-golden skin had turned a ghastly shade of pale, his lips had gone near white, and dark circles had bloomed under his eyes. He resembled nothing so much as a skull. It was all too ironically macabre to be real, but here he was, and last Anakin checked, fresher mirrors didn’t play ugly practical jokes on occupants. 

_Huh_.

Suddenly it all made sense- Padmé’s concern, her brow furrowed just a little more and her voice just a little more strained every night, Ahsoka’s desperate attempts at fostering normalcy- they were as terrified by Anakin’s face as he was, maybe even more, because they couldn’t do anything to stop him looking so, well, dead. Dead inside anyway. Hope felt like a stranger to him now, a distant concept he had once heard of but never truly grasped. 

Why did Death follow him so, in Her pursuit unceasing and coldly unforgiving, doing nothing but taking all he held dear? 

It almost made some sick sense he should die too.

His thoughts whited out at that and slammed to a stop before picking up again, lightning quick and painfully sharp, his hands clutching the sides of the sink in a vice grip, the sound of his heartbeat drowning him in its cacophony. 

_Couldn’t die no can’t leave. Ahsoka. No no no no she needs me scared always scaredsadcan’tlivewithouthim!!!_

He roared, wordlessly, his teeth too white and sharp and his eyes too red, a sickly burning red, and punched the face in the mirror with his durasteel hand.

It didn’t break, of course, plastiflex didn’t. 

He stood there a moment, deflated and defeated, feeling very little of anything at all.

After a moment, he reached out and turned on the sink. Mechanically, as though from a million miles away, and unable to look away from his reflection.

He brushed his teeth. He drank like a man dying of thirst straight from the tap and left the faucet running while he took a shower, his first in too long. With real water. The sound of falling water, the cool slide of it and the sweet lemongrass soap he favored gliding down his tired body, and the sheer physicality of the experience of just getting to be clean made his head blessedly quiet for a brief minute.

When he finally got out, rubbing himself dry with one of their ridiculously indulgent towels (a light green, soft, plush, not at all practical and definitely not Temple issued), Anakin almost felt human again. Almost. 

Of course, that respite was all too fleeting.

His comlink whistled, piercing and insistent, and he fumbled around for a moment, shutting off the faucet and wiping his face dry-ish before answering. "Skywalker."

"Knight Skywalker, your presence is requested by the Council," Master Plo Koon notified him, not unkindly. 

"When?" Anakin asked resignedly, looking back out the fresher door to the rum on his kitchen table longingly, wishing for a new drink and a long, dreamless sleep, preferably until noon. 

"Now," Master Plo said, "if that is possible." The implication that it _must_ be possible was obvious.

"Why?" Anakin asked warily. "Has something happened? Is everything alright?"

"Nothing has happened, Anakin. Though I ask that you try to approach this meeting with an open mind." 

“What's that supposed to..." Anakin trailed off. The Master had already ended the call. He shuffled aimlessly about for a moment, fussing with his hair, and trying to delay the inevitable, he supposed.

He forced himself to move. 

Anakin arrived at the Council's door in less than twenty minutes, but he felt almost certain they'd judge that too long. 

The Temple Guards let him by without so much as a word or a glance. Typical.

Anakin walked into the open circle, his back straight and his head high despite his exhaustion.

_Just get through this Skywalker, then you can go take a karking nap and like, eat something._

"Masters," Anakin said with a slight bow.

"Knight Skywalker," Ki-Adi Mundi greeted, then looked up from his data-pad and asked, "Why has Ahsoka exclusively been training on her own or tagging along with other pairs this past week and then some? It's highly irregular. I've just rechecked the logs, and as neither of you has an assignment at present, it's to be expected that you, as her Master, would make use of this time on-planet." He sounded incredibly aloof and scolding. Annoying.

"You know why, Master Mundi," Anakin said, uncomfortable and unable to meet the Council member's eyes. "I'm not ready. Not yet." 

"That's no excuse. You're going to be sent off planet soon enough. This is a war, boy, or have you forgotten?" Master Windu asked, disapproving. "We don't have the time to coddle your emotions, emotions your late Master should have taught you to control." His words flipped a switch in Anakin, who forgot his exhaustion in the blink of an eye and leapt headfirst into. righteous anger.

"How dare you say that?" Anakin snarled. "How dare you-"

"Anakin," Master Plo Koon interrupted his brewing tirade, his voice somewhere between soothing and authoritative. "We didn't call you here to argue about Master Kenobi's legacy. I understand his loss has been difficult for you. We need to know if this is going to be a problem. It's already affecting your duties. I don't want to sound harsh, but that's not sustainable. It has begun to affect Ahsoka. She has been visibly withdrawn in her peer-classes, and you have locked yourself away for days, it's- inappropriate, to say the least. We need to get her training back on track, and you need to let Obi-Wan go. Forgive me, Anakin, but this whole situation, your behavior- it looks very much like attachment." 

"Is that all?" Anakin asked, his face betraying nothing but rage. "Attachment? You don't care about justice, about grief, anything remotely human, as long as I comply with your precious Code? This is outrageous. It's unfair! You expect us all to behave like droids, you sanctimonious-" As his voice rose, the force swirled around him unhappily, gathering itself around his body like a thick, dark cloak, unsettling and crackling with power and pain.

"Carefully chosen, your next words must be, young Skywalker." Master Yoda sharply banged his gimer stick on the floor, once, twice, and stood, glancing sharply at Master Windu, who slowly got to his feet as well. 

"Are you threatening me, Master Yoda?" Anakin asked incredulously, a bit of something other appearing on his face as his eyes darted around the room like a cornered, wounded animal about to lash out with its teeth. "You're all so afraid of me _feeling_ that you'd resort to threatening me in the fucking Council Chambers?"

"No one is threatening anyone, Skywalker," Aayla Secura sighed, a tiny frown appearing on her face. "Sit down, Masters. This is not the way we help, or have _you_ forgotten?" She turned her gaze back to Anakin. "You've been so... uncertain in the Force since Obi-Wan's death-"

"Don't," Anakin interrupted, his voice tight. "Don't."

She continued, firmly but with obvious sympathy that made Anakin's teeth clench. "Have you thought about seeing a mind-healer?"

"There's nothing left there to heal," Anakin said, anguished. "Our bond is gone! What point would there be?"

The Council erupted into chaos with incredulous shouts of "Bond??" echoing about the chamber, but one ominous old voice was audible through the din as Yoda stared Anakin down.

"If control yourself, you cannot, your padawan reassigned must be."


End file.
